


Expecting A Different Result

by Caledonia



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Although It's Mostly Mild, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur is a Life Model for Merlin's Class, Arthur's POV, Boys Kissing, Explicit Rating for Language and Sexual Content, Fluff and Crack, Is Mildly Explicit A Thing?, Kissing, M/M, Merlin is an artist, Mildly Explicit, Well it is now, fluff at the end, need i say more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:28:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22777921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caledonia/pseuds/Caledonia
Summary: Arthur had been familiar with his name for months now - the artist Merlin Emrys with whom his sister was so taken. His work! His talent! His vision! If Arthur had to hear one more word about Merlin Emrys’s vision he thought he might be sick.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 61
Kudos: 330





	Expecting A Different Result

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Guessimaclotpole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guessimaclotpole/gifts).



> Caution: This contains hand-drawn art by yours truly and I apologise in advance. Although to be fair, it is *meant* to be bad. Anyway, I'm sorry. Truly sorry.

Arthur had been familiar with his name for months now - the famous Merlin Emrys with whom his sister was so taken. His work! His talent! His vision! If Arthur had to hear one more word about Merlin Emrys’s  _ vision _ he thought he might be sick.

His sister prided herself on her self-proclaimed fantastic taste in art. It was a hobby their father did not mind indulging because it made Morgana look smart and interesting, two things that, during her teens, it did not seem like she would grow up to become. So Morgana now owned and ran three art galleries across London where she showcased what she thought was the best of the emerging talent. It was Morgana’s Thing, and Arthur, always the supportive little brother, pretended to be interested.

Which was how he found himself wandering around Morgana’s largest gallery holding a glass of champagne and trying to guess which one of the guests was the famed Merlin Emrys, whose paintings lined the walls of her new exhibit. At least the paintings were nice. They weren’t too avant-garde for Arthur to appreciate. A lot of them were hyperrealistic portraits and landscapes, painted so precisely that they looked like high definition photographs. Art imitating life, that was something which Arthur understood. A few darker ones were more impressionistic, but they were beautiful, too.

Arthur had shown up. He had appreciated the art. He had shaken some hands and flattered some very rich people. Now all he had to do was find his sister and congratulate her, then find the artist and compliment his work, his talent, and his bloody vision. Then Arthur could go home, change into loungewear and watch the telly.

When his sister’s red-painted talons reached through the crowd and gripped the front of his shirt, Arthur nearly dropped his champagne. She was standing with a thin, dark-haired man who was slightly taller than Arthur himself. He had true black hair which was borderline curly. His eyes were gas flame blue, and he was dressed in a tailored black suit which made him look slimmer and taller than he really was. Arthur almost dropped his champagne again.

Thinking that he was about to be introduced to yet another rich donor whose arse he would have to kiss for his sister’s sake, Arthur plastered on a bland smile and extended a hand.

“Arthur, darling, this is Mister Emrys,” Morgana said, causing Arthur to nearly drop his champagne a third time. Maybe he should set his glass down… Merlin Emrys? The artist? But, this man was so cool. So attractive. It didn’t make sense. Mostly the artists Morgana sponsored were unwashed miscreants. Not one of them, ever, had worn a tailored suit to an opening, that was for sure.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mister Emrys. My sister speaks very highly of you.” Arthur said, shaking the man’s hand. Merlin smiled a blinding, winning smile and shook Arthur’s hand. 

“Whatever she has said about me, it can’t possibly be true,” Merlin said, his Northern Irish accent pleasing to Arthur’s ear. 

“Although it is surprising to me, sister, that in all of the times you have complimented this man to me you never once mentioned his cheekbones. His art is obviously wonderful, and I know that is why we are here, but surely those cheekbones warranted a mention, too.” Arthur had accidentally slipped into being On the Pull, which was another thing that had certainly never happened before at one of Morgana’s Art Things. 

Morgana, though she laughed with Arthur and Merlin, was not best pleased by her little brother’s behaviour, and, before he had a chance to memorise everything about the vision of a man in front of him, Arthur found himself behind shunted elsewhere, his sister’s talons clutching tightly at his elbow. 

Two weeks after the opening Morgana was still not speaking to Arthur, and Arthur had still not managed to see Merlin again. He had gone down to the gallery when Morgana had not been there and had tried to get the attendants to give him information on the blue-eyed artist, but they had obviously been warned not to tell Arthur anything.

In a fit of insanity, the Monday of week three Arthur sent his PA down to the gallery to see what information she could get for him. She was happy to go and returned at lunchtime with the phone number of the art school where Merlin taught evening classes. 

By the time his colleagues were catching their trains and buses home from work, Arthur had called the school to inquire whether he might attend Merlin’s class and had been told that they had space in Watercolours on Wednesday nights.

So Arthur, who had never so much as coloured a picture since primary school, headed off to art school. Arthur had never attempted to seduce someone in an art class, and he thought he was going to enjoy the challenge.

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” Merlin asked as Arthur introduced himself. “Oh, yes, you’re Morgana’s brother. Why the sudden interest in art?”

“I guess all of her wittering has finally convinced me to see if I have any latent talent,” Arthur said, noticing that Merlin looked just as stunningly gorgeous in a faded t-shirt and jeans as he had in the tailored black suit.

Halfway through the first class, two things became painfully clear to Arthur. The first was that every single other student in the class was lusting after their instructor as well, and none of them was being subtle about their desires. The second was that Arthur had absolutely no artistic talent, latent or otherwise, to speak of. 

“It’s awful,” Arthur said, staring at his paper with his eyes narrowed. 

“It is not  _ awful _ ,” Merlin said, haltingly, then he pointed to the corner of the paper where Arthur had accidentally spilt some water, “I like what you’ve done with the colours here.”

When Arthur only cringed, Merlin said, “You spilt the water, didn’t you?”

Arthur nodded, eyes closed, too embarrassed by his utter failure to see the look on Merlin’s face.

“You know what, Arthur? I am not sure that watercolours are your medium. I teach a drawing class tomorrow evening, why don’t you come along and we can start with the basics.”

Arthur was, if possible, worse at drawing than he had been at watercolour painting. They had been doing a still life of some fruit on a table, and at the end of the lesson Arthur packed up his things immediately, hoping to be out the door before Merlin got around to see how he had fared. He was too embarrassed to flirt, nevermind seduce, and he wanted to go home and nurse his wounds. 

On his way out the door, he overheard a conversation.

“I am tired of drawing fruit. This is a life drawing class, and we’re not exactly drawing anything alive, are we?”

“Mr Ermys says they’re having trouble finding anyone to volunteer to be a model.”

“I wish Emrys would model for us. He’s so good looking.”

“If they can’t get a volunteer soon, maybe he’ll have to.”

After which the group dissolved into giggles, but at least it gave Arthur an idea. He clearly had no hope of seducing Merlin with his nonexistent artistic abilities, so maybe it was time to pull out all the stops. 

Which was how Arthur found himself the following week standing at the front of the class which he had so disastrously attempted to attend. He was wearing the fluffy dressing gown and slippers that had been provided for him, and he was about to strip naked in front of a room full of people. The lengths he was willing to go to...

“OK Arthur, we’re ready for you,” Merlin said, gesturing at the stage where Arthur was standing. Arthur swallowed, stepped out of the slippers, and took off the dressing gown. He had been at the gym for every spare moment over the past week - he’d even waxed in places. He knew he looked good. Fantastic, even. What he needed was for Emrys to notice it, too.

So Arthur stood, naked, at the front of the classroom, while twenty students scribbled on their papers. It was boring. And cold. And Merlin wasn't paying him any attention at all. Arthur kept trying to catch his eye as he wandered around the class helping his students, but Merlin was quite the professional and he barely looked Arthur’s way except to point something out to someone who was struggling. What a fiasco. 

“Thank you, Arthur, we're done now. Class, you’ll have to put the finishing touches on from memory, and have those drawings on my desk before you leave tonight.”

Arthur retired to the toilets to change and when he got back to the classroom most of the students were filtering out. There was a stack of drawings on Merlin’s desk, all sketches of him naked. Some of them weren’t bad, either.

“Thank you so much for your help, Arthur,” Merlin said, tidying the room in preparation of locking up for the night.

“It was nothing,” Arthur said, and he was going to come straight out and ask Merlin on a date when Merlin spoke.

“If you fancy coming back next week, we can bring in a chair for you.”

Arthur’s invitation died on his lips. That was it? After spending forty minutes looking at Arthur naked, all Merlin was going to do was to ask Arthur to come back and model again? What did a man have to do to get a date these days?

“I’ll check my schedule and give you a call.”

“Great. Leave a message for me with the secretaries at the school. Thanks again, Arthur. I really appreciate this.”

Of course, he went back. Glutton for punishment, that Arthur. He spent the week at the gym, again, and he even splurged on a spray tan. Everyone in his life, including Morgana, had clocked that there was something unusual going on, but Arthur refused to say a word. His failures with Merlin were his secret, thankfully. 

There was a hideously ornate chair on the platform, and Arthur stepped out of his slippers and robe and went to take his place. At which point Merlin joined him on the stage. 

"I'm just going to help you pose. We're going to do a series of four quicker positions today, to give them some variety and to save you having to come back again."

"Sure, sure," Arthur replied, the height of wit once again. It wasn't his fault though! He had meant to reply with something endlessly entertaining, but Merlin had started touching him, and every word Arthur had ever known disappeared from his brain in an instant. 

Merlin's fingers were strong and deliberate as they manoeuvred Arthur's arms and torso into the desired position and there was a slight hint of red in his pale cheeks. 

It was only the twenty strangers watching them that kept Arthur from being aroused. Thank heavens. 

"Could you cross your ankles there, and sort of look over your shoulder?" Merlin asked. Arthur nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and Merlin smiled at him before descending to the class. 

The second pose was stranger still, with Arthur having to hold his arm above his head awkwardly. The third pose was slightly more normal, but the last one was ridiculous, not to mention painful, and Arthur was convinced that Merlin was enjoying watching Arthur make a complete fool of himself.

When Arthur returned from getting changed the class was empty, and Merlin was paging through the stack of completed drawings, a slight smile on his face. 

"Some of these are really good," Merlin said, looking over his shoulder at Arthur, and showing a page of four small drawings that made Arthur look a whole lot more graceful than he had felt while on stage. "You're an excellent model, and look, she's even left you her number."

Merlin pointed at the bottom of a page where a woman had scrawled  _ call me! _ along with her number and half, a dozen love hearts. Arthur felt himself blushing but forced himself to laugh. 

"That's sweet, but she's not really my type."

"Mine neither," Merlin shook his head and returned to the stack of papers. "I'm almost jealous I didn't get a chance to draw you myself," Merlin said, looking closely at one of the drawings.

"I could always pose for you," Arthur replied, his heart racing.

"That wouldn't be too awkward for you? Because of your sister?"

Arthur felt as though his stomach had dropped away completely as a sudden thought struck him, "You're not dating her, are you?"

"God no," Merlin said, and Arthur's stomach came crashing back into place, "She's not really my type either."

"Well then, I don't see a problem. Do you?"

Arthur wanted Merlin to say that there was a problem. That  _ Arthur _ was his type and therefore it would be a terrible idea for Arthur to model for him, one on one. But Merlin said none of those things. He simply smiled and said, "I guess not."

Which was how Arthur found himself that Friday evening standing outside the seemingly derelict council garages that Merlin had repurposed into his art studio, feeling nervous and hoping that the small space was heated.

"Arthur! Come in," Merlin greeted him with a smile and ushered Arthur into the studio. It was much cosier inside than Arthur had expected - partition walls had been erected to cover the old garage doors, there was a small shower room, a sofa, and a tiny kitchenette complete with mini-fridge and kettle. At the far end was a wall with a door in it, and Arthur wondered whether there was a bedroom back there. It wouldn't have surprised Arthur to learn that Merlin actually lived there, as he had actually seen proper flats that were smaller and less inviting.

"Sorry everything is such a mess. I meant to have a clear out, but didn't manage it."

"This is a nice space," Arthur said, handing Merlin his jacket. There was an area set up with candles burning and a far more comfortable chair which was obviously where Arthur would be spending the evening. All of Merlin's supplies were set out as well, and it was clear that he wanted to get stuck in. "Where do you want me?"

"In that chair, there. You don't need to strip off, but would you mind changing into this shirt? I thought the colour would suit you."

Arthur took the hanger Merlin handed him with a wine red button down on it. Shrugging, Arthur stepped aside and pulled his own shirt off, not bothering to turn his back. Merlin had seen him naked, after all.

Once he was ready Arthur sat on the chair. He waited while Merlin moved candles around, adjusting the lighting, then settled back to admire his work.

"I'm going to take a photo first, so I have something to reference later. Is that ok?" Arthur nodded. "No, don't smile, just look straight at me. Perfect."

Merlin took a few pictures then sat on a stool and started drawing.

Neither of them spoke for a long time, and Arthur watched Merlin, making sure not to move the barest muscle. Merlin had a look of utter concentration on his face and it was a pleasure to see him working, his eyebrows knitting together as he erased something that displeased him. As Merlin focused on his face their eyes met occasionally, though quite by accident, and Arthur felt heat rising in his face.

"You're blushing."

"I'm sorry," Arthur replied, "I've never had anyone look at me this closely before."

"Am I embarrassing you?"

"No, I like it."

Merlin smiled softly then turned back to his drawing. Arthur wanted badly to see it - to see himself through Merlin's eyes, and he wondered when Merlin would let him see the finished piece.

Eventually, Arthur was too tired and sore to hold the position any longer, and he said so to Merlin, apologising. Merlin, looking at his watch, turned a shocked face on Arthur, and began to apologise.

“Arthur, it’s been almost two hours! Are you OK? Here, let me help you.”

Merlin set everything aside and came to help Arthur, who was very stiff after having not moved for so long. The touch of Merlin’s hand on his set Arthur aflame, and he could feel himself blushing again.

They were standing far too close to each other, and Arthur could feel Merlin’s breath on his face. If he leaned forward slightly, they could be kissing. Was he imagining Merlin’s gaze lingering on his lips? One of them was going to have to speak soon, or they were going to have to kiss, there were no other options.

Merlin cleared his throat and turned away, grinning at Arthur over his shoulder. Arthur felt frozen, jilted, broken. Walking away had not been one of the options! That wasn’t fair. Blushing from embarrassment now, Arthur went to gather his things. He didn’t want to go home, but he didn’t want to be here with Merlin for a single second longer. 

“Thanks again, Arthur, I think this is going to be brilliant,” Merlin said, and Arthur grunted noncommittally, trying to locate his jacket, which Merlin found first and handed over, still smiling.

“You can keep the shirt, it won’t fit me.”

“Thanks. Well, I guess I’ll see you around, then?” Arthur said. It was quite possible that Merlin replied, but Arthur was already gone.

Over the following days and weeks, Arthur was tormented by memories of Merlin - the way one of his eyebrows raised when he was really concentrating, the flash of pink when he stuck his tongue between his teeth, leaning in to get a closer look at his work. The painful blue clarity of his eyes. It was a miserable way for Arthur to live, but he couldn’t stop himself. He wanted Merlin so badly it was like he had an illness for which there was no cure. He had offered himself to Merlin in the most direct way, and Merlin had not been the slightest bit interested. So Arthur tried to move on.

Except he couldn’t. His infatuation with the artist was whole and utterly pathetic. He completed all of the functions of his life; work, family, friends, but he was like a spectator, gliding over the surface of everything without interacting. He avoided Morgana completely, and even refused to attend the opening of her next exhibit, a crime that, in Morgana’s world, was punishable by death.

So Arthur was surprised when he got a call from Morgana one Monday morning when he thought she had vowed to never speak to him again in their lives.

“You are in so much trouble little brother,” Morgana said, her voice clipped. Arthur sighed and ran his hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“I told you already, I had a meeting for work that I could not get out of,” Arthur started, explaining again why he hadn’t been to her rubbish opening.

“Oh, it’s so much worse than that,” Morgana crowed, and Arthur knew he was meant to start guessing, but he had no energy for that game.

“Why don’t you tell me what I’ve done wrong, and then I can apologise.”

“I think you already know.”

“I really don’t-”

“Exactly how long have you been shagging Merlin Emrys?”

Arthur’s heart skipped at the sound of Merlin’s name, but what followed was an even deeper misery than before.

“I’m not.”

“Oh, please don’t lie, Arthur. I have the proof right here that you are.”

“I am not lying, Morgana, and what do you mean by proof?”

“Come and see for yourself, then you can tell me those lies to my face,” Morgana said, ending the call. Arthur sighed and stared at the black screen of his phone. He stood from his desk and shouldered into his jacket. He knew that if he wanted peace from his sister he had no choice but to see what it was she was on about

The exhibition space was empty when Arthur arrived, the door locked, and Arthur had to wait for Morgana to answer his knocks before he could get in.

“I’m here, show me this proof you’re going on about,” Arthur said, following Morgana as she stalked across the room. His eyes wandered, almost against his will, over the works of art on the wall and his failure with the artist was shockingly painful, even after all the time that had passed.

He was glad to see that most of the works had small red SOLD flags over their descriptive panels. The show, it seemed, had been a success. Good. Merlin deserved it.

Morgana finally stopped before a large painting and it took Arthur a few moments to realise what he was looking at, which was ridiculous because what he was looking at was himself. Well, almost. There was no way Arthur’s eyes glinted that mysteriously in real life. There was no way his smile was that promising and seductive. There was no way his skin was that soft, creamy perfection. The descriptive card beside the portrait read  _ Not for sale: from the artist’s private collection _ . Arthur’s breath burst from him in a rush, and he took a step back, feeling as though the floor was crumbling away beneath him.

“If you’re not shagging him,” his sister said, her eyes wide as she looked at the portrait, “then you really, really should be.”

Arthur was only vaguely aware that Morgana had walked away. Everything at the periphery of his vision was blurred, and his entire life refocused into the picture on the wall in front of him. What could have been minutes or hours later, Arthur left the studio without saying goodbye to Morgana and went back to his office. 

He stopped by the copy room and grabbed a handful of blank paper and pens and pencils, then he went to his desk and started to work. He obviously had to learn to speak Merlin’s language if he was going to get anywhere with the brilliant, gorgeous artist.

Which was how he found himself the following morning standing outside Merlin’s studio space slipping an envelope of crude stick-figure drawings through the letterbox. He had been up most of the night drawing and redrawing the pictures, and he hoped, even if Merlin didn’t follow the instructions on the envelope (Call Me! <3 <3 <3) this would at least make him smile.

(Here is an image of a some of Arthur’s drawings. They are very crude stick cartoons showing Arthur’s attempts to woo Merlin, complete with a “draw me like one of your French girls” thought bubble above a posing Arthur.)

Merlin did not call, and Arthur finally let it go. He had tried - he had _more_ than tried, but Merlin was clearly not interested. However, now that Arthur knew without a doubt that he had no chance with Merlin it was easier to get on with his life. Days passed, and then weeks, and before Arthur knew it, it had been a month since he’d dropped the envelope of ridiculous drawings off at Merlin’s studio space. 

It was nice, if a little boring, and Arthur began to settle into life again until his sister called him far too early one Saturday morning. 

“There’s a new exhibit at my gallery, and you better be coming to the opening tonight.”

“Which gallery?” Arthur asked, knowing that arguing or claiming to already have plans just wouldn’t cut it. He rolled over and covered his eyes with his arm, hoping to get back to bed after he ended the call with his sister.

“Portland Road.”

Arthur sat up quickly, dislodging his covers and nearly dropping the phone, and he took a few deep breaths before speaking, “Portland Road? I thought that Merlin’s work was still there?”

“Yeah, he’s an asshole. He pulled the exhibit almost two months early - I had to scramble to find somebody to fill the space because the next artist I had lined up wasn’t ready yet. Anyway, are you coming?”

“I guess, what time?”

“Six. See you then.”

Merlin had pulled the exhibit? The only reason he would do that is if he had gotten a better offer from another gallery, and if that was the case, Arthur thought, he really was an asshole. 

That night, fully suited in order to impress rich donors, Arthur walked around the Portland Road gallery, wholly unimpressed. Compared to Merlin the artist whose work covered the walls looked like someone painting in the dark. This was precisely the type of art that Arthur struggled to understand, bold blocks of colour, strange, tactile brush strokes. However, he didn’t need to stay long. He looked around for his sister and saw her standing next to the unwashed miscreant whose works she was showcasing. He remembered Merlin in his tailored suit and wished he could relive that night. Their first meeting, that handshake. Maybe, if Arthur could do it all over again, he’d set his sights a little lower. Friends, perhaps, rather than lovers? Would it be worth it to have Merlin as a friend? Arthur didn’t know and, besides, he couldn’t go back.

“Did he paint these in the dark?” A voice whispered into Arthur’s ear and Arthur turned to see Merlin Emrys standing there in his tailored suit. The sight of him made Arthur’s breath catch in his throat.

“What are you doing here?”

"It’s a public opening.”

“If my sister sees you,” Arthur began, looking towards Morgana whose back was to them as she schmoozed all over a very wealthy older man, “She’s livid with you for pulling your exhibit early.”

“I’m not staying.”

“Why are you even here?” Arthur asked, annoyed with him for his sister’s sake. 

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“No, actually, it bloody well isn’t  _ obvious _ ,” Arthur said, his temper rising. Merlin was smiling at him, his dimples doing  _ things _ to Arthur while his eyes shone with mirth, and Arthur’s voice rose, “You pull your work early so my sister has to scramble to find someone to fill the space, do you have any idea how hard she works to keep this place going? Do you even care? Why did you pull the exhibit? Did someone make you a better offer?”

“Oh, fuck me but you’re hot when you’re angry,” Merlin said, and that brought Arthur up short, “I pulled my exhibit because I couldn’t start shagging you while my work was still at your sister’s gallery. The London art scene is full of close-minded, vindictive prats, and if word got out that I was shagging Morgana’s brother it would have been a disaster for me.”

Arthur’s brain had short-circuited when Merlin said  _ fuck me _ , so he wasn’t entirely sure he’d understood properly. However, he eventually came to his senses.

“Wait, did you say shagging?”

Merlin smiled again, mouth slightly crooked and eyes shining. 

“You and me. Shagging?” Arthur said, pointing back and forth between Merlin and himself, wanting to clarify. Wanting to make absolutely certain.

“Yes,” Merlin purred, biting his bottom lip, “as soon as humanly possible, I think.”

Arthur handed his half-drunk champagne to the stranger standing next to him and reached for Merlin’s arm, dragging him through the feeble crowd and out through the gallery’s front door. He pulled Merlin to the middle of the street and stopped a taxi by basically standing in front of it. 

“Where’s closest?” Arthur asked Merlin, who hadn’t stopped smiling.

“The studio, probably,” Merlin said, laughing and giving the driver the address. Arthur shoved a twenty-pound note through the window as an incentive for the driver to not take his time. He thought, all things considered, that he had been waiting for this moment quite long enough, thank you very much.

He and Merlin didn’t speak during the taxi ride, but they held hands and giggled like teenagers until the car slowed outside Merlin’s studio. Merlin paid the fare, though Arthur’s original twenty pounds more than covered it, and he fumbled with his keys as the taxi drove away again. When they got inside Arthur started taking his tie off, and Merlin walked away from Arthur backwards, laughing.

“Can I get you a drink? Maybe some wine? A cup of tea?” 

Arthur kept taking his clothes off as Merlin talked, every inch of his skin tingling with the need for Merlin to touch him,  _ finally _ . When his shirt was off Merlin stopped walking and tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowed.

“Aw, no spray tan this time?”

“You absolute  _ prat _ ,” Arthur said, raising his voice to be heard over Merlin’s laughter. Merlin’s back was against the door at the far end of the studio, the one Arthur guessed led to a bedroom, and he was smiling wickedly, his bottom lip between his teeth. Arthur stepped up to him and paused, their eyes searching each other briefly before their lips met. The kiss was slow and deliberate, building in intensity until they were both breathless and more than a little desperate. Merlin’s hands snaked their way up along Arthur’s back and Arthur’s hands lost themselves in Merlin’s black hair.

Arthur kissed Merlin’s neck as he began to undress Merlin, and Merlin talked, making Arthur nearly crazed with need.

“I’ve wanted this since that night, at the opening. When you, ah…” Merlin gasped as Arthur moved his lips along Merlin’s newly exposed shoulder, teeth nipping gently at the pale skin, “my cheekbones,” Merlin continued, arching his back as Arthur ran a thumb over one of Merlin’s nipples, “and when you came to my classes,  _ fuck, Arthur…” _ Merlin pushed Arthur away as he shrugged off his suit coat, shirt, and tie, then reached for Arthur, pulling him back into a deep kiss, Merlin’s ribs sharp against Arthur’s chest.

“I got naked in front of strangers for you,” Arthur growled, burrowing against Merlin’s long, graceful neck as Merlin arched again, his hips seeking Arthur’s.

“ _ Oh, god, _ Arthur, you were  _ naked _ ,” Merlin said, his body vibrating with laughter, “I was so fucking turned on but what could I do about it? I couldn’t very well stare at you, for fuck’s sake. I was so hard I could barely walk,” Merlin confessed, and Arthur’s heart stalled watching Merlin’s skin redden with embarrassment. 

“ _ You _ were turned on?” Arthur said, indignant, pushing back again to glare at Merlin, but faltering slightly at the absolute vision before him, “you had your  _ hands  _ on me.  _ No, like this, Arthur _ , with your hand on my naked thighs. Jesus.”

Merlin laughed, his shoulders shaking, and Arthur pressed against him, kissing the laughter out of his mouth. Merlin’s fingers dug into Arthur’s shoulders and against his spine as Merlin’s hands moved down Arthur’s back, sliding beneath his trousers and teasing the skin there with feather light touches even as Merlin bit Arthur’s lower lip and moaned, long and dirty.

“I think,” Arthur said, leaning his head back as Merlin’s teeth skimmed along the skin of his neck, “all things considered, it’s my turn to see you naked.”

“Are you going to draw me like one of your French girls?” Merlin asked, looking at Arthur with complete seriousness and referencing Arthur’s pathetic stick drawings. Merlin’s straight face began to crack under Arthur’s glare, his lips splitting into a smile before he let out a laugh as Arthur fumbled for the door handle behind him, their chests crushed together.

“You really are a prat,” Arthur said, bending slightly and lifting Merlin over his shoulder as he stepped through the door and flung him, laughing wildly, onto the bed. 

“I am, I know,” Merlin said, looking up at Arthur from the bed, propped on both elbows. Arthur had never seen anything so beautiful. His pure black hair was a mess, his cheeks were pink, his lips wet and full, his body stretched lithe and thin, trousers low on his hips and his erection straining to be set free. Arthur’s eyes roamed hungrily before resting upon Merlin’s again and seeing the glint there, challenging and carefree, “what are you going to do about it?”

Arthur, kicking his shoes off, began to unzip his trousers and Merlin wiggled his eyebrows cheekily, laughing again, hands making gimmie-gimmie grasps in the air.

“Everything,” Arthur promised, his voice low and gravelly with lust as he stood naked for one breathless second before lowering himself to the bed and crawling towards Merlin whose eyes were wide, his mouth parted into a brilliant smile.

[--]

When they paused for breath on Sunday morning, Merlin, wrapped in a sheet to keep away the chill, made them toast and jam in the tiny kitchenette, swatting Arthur’s hands away as Arthur tried to dislodge the sheet.

“Arthur we need to eat, go make tea or something,” Merlin laughed and Arthur, disappointed but hungry, turned to fill the kettle.

In a frame over the tiny sink were Arthur’s drawings, but Merlin had added his own scribbles in red ink. Arthur tilted his head to see, letting the kettle overflow. Merlin had drawn in his own thoughts, little red hearts in bubbles above his poorly drawn cartoon head. Arthur shut the water off and set the kettle to boil, then walked up behind Merlin and pulled him into a hug, his lips on Merlin’s neck, hands flat against his chest.

“Arthur, the toast!” Merlin said, turning around with an exasperated sigh. Arthur pressed against him, kissing him deep and long until all thoughts of food were long, long forgotten and they were both breathless and trembling.

“Let it burn,” Arthur said and he threw Merlin over his shoulder again, heading for the bedroom.

[fin]

Merlin’s drawings, for those who are interested:

**Author's Note:**

> I've gifted this to Amy because she dragged me through this one kicking and screaming with her endless support and encouragement. She single-handedly breathed life back into my draft when I thought I was ready to abandon it completely. Friends, what you need in life is someone who leaves you comments like, "heckity heck i am gonna die if this is left unfinished *flails wildly whilst clinging to Arthur's candlelit jawbones*", and that's all I'm going to say about it. <3 <3


End file.
